


Come On Love, Draw Your Swords

by HedaCoco



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedaCoco/pseuds/HedaCoco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon drabble. Feelsy and a little smut?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On Love, Draw Your Swords

**Author's Note:**

> What are tenses?  
> Plucked this out of my tumblr.

Clarke can’t sleep, her body is restless and her mind is with her friends in the mountain. She can’t help but to think who is still alive and who isn’t. There is enough material, imagined and memory to create too many dark thoughts that twist their way into her dreams and she wouldn’t admit it but she is afraid of them. 

Anya’s eyes, Charlotte disappearing over the cliff into nothing, Finn’s blood on her hands, humans in cages or hung from their ankles like animals. It’s easier not to sleep. Instead she lays still on her side, the last of the fire meant to keep them warm dwindling away and dancing shadows on Lexa’s relaxed face. 

It feels like a privilege, Clarke acknowledges that but only because she’s never had the time to see Lexa so up close before. So unguarded. Lexa looks so young. Most of the time, even after the commander had kissed her, Lexa’s presence makes her feel small, intimidated. Clarke supposes it is purposeful, that’s how it has to be, it’s how Lexa wants it to be and she can see why now. With her jaw relaxed and her skin free of dark paint, her lips laid loosely against one another. She’s beautiful. Clarke, for the first time in a long time, feels the familiar tug of desire to put something she see’s down onto paper. She almost forgot that she knew how to do anything else but fight and run. All her talk about life being more than surviving and she may have even forgotten herself what else there was besides it. 

Without thinking, and possibly on by the poor judgment a lack of sleep brings, Clarke reached out and touched her fingertips to Lexa’s jaw. The touch was tentative, barely brushing the smooth skin that lined Lexa’s jaw but when it caused no reaction, not even a slight twitch across any of Lexa’s features, Clarke grew bolder. 

She traced her fingers along the lower part of Lexa’s cheek up to her ear and then twisted her wrist so that she could smooth her thumb out over the subtle pink that colored the tops of the sleeping girl’s cheeks. Clarke lingered moving over Lexa’s lips, she imagined herself drawing them, penciling the outline and shading in their shape. Her own lips absently ached for the softness of them but that was a whole other and much more complicated problem so she moved on to brush her fingertips over Lexa’s eyebrows instead, to distract from where her thoughts were leading her. 

Clarke was so enthralled with her mapping of Lexa’s face that she hadn’t noticed the change in the other girls breathing and it shocked her when Lexa’s lips parted and she spoke. 

“You are supposed to be resting, Clarke.” 

She snapped her hand back to herself, feeling embarrassed for getting caught. As soon as she pulled away Lexa finally opened her eyes to look at her and for a long moment Clarke didn’t do anything but study her eyes. Then she resigned to her embarrassment and sighed. 

“I am.” Clarke claimed. 

Lexa leaned up on her elbow, probably to get a better look at Clarke in the low light the waning fire at the center of the tent provided. 

“Have you slept at all?”

Clarke considered lying. She didn’t want to hear the speech again, how she was overthinking, how Lexa apparently understood what that was like but that she needed to turn it off and rest. That was easier said than done. 

She shook her head in place of saying so out loud. Clarke had the feeling she was about to ignore everything Lexa was going to say to her anyway.There wasn’t anything that could be said. What Clarke needed was to be done with all of this and get her people back. Her worry would not subside until that happened. 

Though Lexa didn’t speak. Instead she simply watched Clarke, like she was deciding something and then to Clarke’s surprise Lexa began to shift closer to her. 

Lexa was careful about how she moved into Clarke’s space, Clarke could see that. Soon their bodies were pressed together and Lexa’s hand came to rest delicately to Clarke’s hip. 

Clarke waited at first, Lexa’s face so close to hers that their noses could brush if either of them moved a fraction further, it stalled her thoughts. The same way it had when Lexa kissed her and their lips pressing together drew Clarke in before her brain had restarted and she thought better of it. 

“Lexa I…” 

But Lexa shushed her. 

Her fingers were already travelling beneath Clarke’s shirt but she was making no move to kiss her, green eyes remained locked on confused blue hues just inches away.

“You need to relax.” 

Clarke knew she should protest, she even thinks she wants to but it’s hard to tell with Lexa’s hands beginning to explore over her back and across the span of her stomach in a way that nudges her shirt up higher and higher.

It’s when Lexa’s lips meet her neck at the same time as delicate fingers pull sharply at the clasp of her jeans that Clarke’s thoughts came back together and she gasps and pulls back. 

“You know that I can’t.” She says softly because she wants to. If Clarke thought the desire she felt itching to etch Lexa onto paper was strong the burning that replaced it as soon as Lexa began to touch her was light years ahead of that. 

Lexa didn’t look disappointed, she slowed as requested and stopped what she was doing long enough to look at Clarke in that way she does when she is about to explain something obvious. Clarke honestly hated that look.

“You need to relax, Clarke.” Lexa said again and then with a tenderness she wasn’t showing until that moment she nudged her nose to Clarke’s, her eyes closing. “This isn’t that.” She promised. “I only want to help you.” 

Clarke was skeptical but the heat was rising in her body and she sorely missed Lexa’s hands on her. The thought of her rolling away now, to fall back asleep and leave her again with just her dark thoughts wasn’t at all appealing. So under Lexa’s patient gaze, Clarke nodded. 

Time seemed to slow as soon as they were moving again. Lexa found her way past the zipper of Clarke’s jeans and pressed against her over the soft fabric of her underwear as her lips descended once more to her neck. 

Clarke gasped for wholly different reasons and she squirmed against Lexa’s touch, much more needy than she cared for Lexa to notice. 

Soon they were pushing at Clarke’s clothing. They worked both sets of fabric down past her knees and Lexa wasted no time on teasing Clarke, which Clarke was endlessly grateful for judging by the sound that escaped past her lips. 

Lexa slid her finger’s through Clarke’s folds, testing what made Clarke’s breathing quicken and what elicited small appreciative noises until she found a rhythm that worked. 

Clarke’s hands gripped tightly to the sides of Lexa’s shirt until Lexa nudged their cheeks together to get Clarke to turn her head and nipped at her jaw. 

“Relax” She whispered hotly right up against her ear and Clarke immediately felt herself responding. She loosened her grip and released the clench of her muscles in her stomach and thighs, allowing herself to melt further into Lexa. 

Her hands moved up to Lexa’s neck and she pulled them together, their foreheads pressed to one another, heavy breathing crashing between them. 

Clarke rocked against Lexa’s touch, giving in to the sensation and closing her eyes just to feel her. The moment that she let go entirely wasn’t conscious, it just happened. Her only thoughts being how to get more. How to feel more of Lexa. The question built up inside her so quickly and ferociously Clarke could feel herself welling up and she panted and moaned and _whined_ for anything else Lexa could give her. 

Lexa for her part increased her pace, circling around Clarke’s clit with slick motions until she went deeper and dipped inside of her. 

Clarke gasped and groaned low in her throat, her entirely body stilling to adjust to the pleasant wave that spread out from her center to her limbs and as soon as Lexa began moving within her, Clarke found her lips.

She kissed her with urgency, burying the sounds of her moans against Lexa’s lips. It was sloppy and giving, all of Clarke pouring out into Lexa and swallowing up everything she could get in return. 

Lexa gave way to it, allowing Clarke to lead while she was busy pushing her over the edge. 

Clarke’s thighs shook and her muscles tightened, her overwhelming need turned quickly to something that was just purely overwhelming and then it took her. 

When she was through Clarke was nothing but blankness. Seconds before her only thought was the physical feeling of Lexa rubbing against her and the approach of her orgasm and in the aftermath her skin tingled and muscles twitched but her thoughts were on nothing but catching her breath. It wasn’t until Lexa moved, pulling from her and carefully helping to put Clarke’s clothes back in place that sensible thoughts dripped their way back into her head. 

She was glad that even when they were through Lexa didn’t move from her, she kept herself pressed against Clarke, her hand once again resting at idly her hip. 

Clarke’s heart calmed from roaring loudly in her ears and the silence of the room came into focus. She didn’t look at Lexa, she couldn’t. Her cheeks were wet and her body spent past exhaustion. She couldn’t lift her eyes because Lexa had been right and Clarke didn’t know what to say or what expression her face might give away if they were eye to eye. Clarke assumed Lexa read her mind because the other girl pressed a short kiss to her forehead and it allowed for some finality. Permission for nothing to be said, for the moment to be over. That the swell in Clarke’s chest and the tears in her eyes didn’t need defining. 

“Sleep.” Lexa spoke to her. 

And Clarke did. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply trapped in Lexa’s arms. The next day they may pretend it never happened but they had bigger things to worry about. Clarke let her exhaustion overtake her, whispering a small “Thank you” as she drifted out of consciousness. 


End file.
